


Minor Infractions

by GothicYuri



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Child Abuse, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-16 23:32:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16504940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GothicYuri/pseuds/GothicYuri
Summary: Joan's childhood was as chilling as the winters in Russia, her father constantly proving she has no one else in her life. Until one day, a feverish dream led her to another little girl as desperately lonely and hurt as she was. Constantly torn between the cold she felt from her father, and the warmth she felt from Vera, her world is shattered beyond belief.





	1. The Injustice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MsYukari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsYukari/gifts).



> So this is my first attempt at a story. As everyone knows, there isn't much reference to Joan's childhood, and very little at all of a back story before coming to Wentworth.  
> So I thought it would be interesting to write my views on what could've occurred, while throwing in a AU with Vera as a childhood friend. Hope you enjoy.

The darkness of the closet overwhelmed her sight as she crouched into the deepest corner behind heavy coats. She bit back a sob as she shoved her small fist into her mouth. Footsteps echoed not far from the door, heavy, loud, keeping in time with her hummingbird heart. Squeezing her eyes shut, she imagined any place but this cold wasteland that continued to prove that even the hardiest of life would never thrive there.

A burst of light shredded the darkness as the door was ripped open, and a great figure stood angrily in the doorway. She blanched, knowing what was next.

“Joan…” the voice spoke softly, laced with the rage he held in check. He reached in and grabbed her wrist, bruising her fragile skin, jerking her out into the light.

A quick cry escaped her lips before a hand shot across her face, the sound reverberating through the cold, empty room. She looked up defiantly at the cruel man before her, the hard lines around his mouth taunt as he bared his teeth. His hand shot out again, the opposite cheek now sporting a handprint, too.

Tears slipped down Joan’s face, twin streams of boiling water that scalded her skin with all the rage and hopelessness of her tiny seven year old frame. He gripped her wrist and dragged her through the door into the small hallway, towards the front entrance. A small snowstorm blew in through the door as the man opened it, showing a pure white landscape dotted infrequently with other houses.

“You will stay out here until morning for what you have done. You know better than to hide from me,” he said with his thick Russian accent. He glanced at her as he dragged her outside to a freezing metal chain attached to a pole in the ground.

Joan’s eyes widened, and her small mouth opened into a silent scream as she tried desperately to break free from his grip. He slapped her again, the cold causing it to sting even worse, and she went limp. Her dress was soaked from the snow, her feet frozen and lacking shoes. He chained her up, turned, and walked back into to the warm house, not once looking back at the pitiful scrap of flesh that hunkered into herself to conserve what little bit of heat she could.

She would’ve cried over the events she went through from her father, but they would just freeze to her face. Instead, she hid her aching face into her dress, her hands already numb from the chains.

_It’s just pain, Joan. It’s just pain._

So she waited as the sun slipped beneath the sky and the stars were sprinkled through the blackness of the sky. The temperature dropped significantly lower until Joan thought she would become nothing but another snowflake on the ground. It seemed forever until the sun slowly creeped up from the vast horizon, and the sound of the door opening pierced the dawn.

She never did feel when he unchained her, nor when he picked up her numb, silent body and carried her inside. He took her to the bathroom and removed her sodden dress and sat her in the warm water that already awaited her. Her body instantly felt as if daggers stabbed mercilessly through every inch of her, her lungs seized as she gasped out a silent scream.

She would’ve liked to have thought that this was her father trying to be somewhat kind to her, warming her up, but she knew it was just another part of the process. It took almost two hours, and multiple warm baths, until she felt almost normal. The entire time, her father was silent, going about this as if it was any other task he needed to accomplish.

When they were done, he lifted her from the tub and wrapped a towel around her, and allowed her to dry herself off before he shoved another dress and panties into her hands. She quickly dressed, and stood there waiting, waiting for him to either punish her even more to an extent, or to allow her to sleep for a few hours.

Joan could see the thoughts being processed through his mind, before settling on one. “You will go out and bring in more firewood, and then you may go to bed.”

Joan nodded, careful to not anger him more, and slipped out of the room and to her room. She quickly put on a coat and her boots, then went back outside to the firewood pile. She could only carry four pieces at a time, by the time she was on her last trip, she had a path carved through the thick, white snow.

She brushed off the last of the snow and deposited the wood on the pile, then shed her coat and boots at the door. Joan walked back over to the fireplace and leaned down, stoking the blazes and adding another log. All of a sudden, a hand shoved her forward, her arm flying out to catch her, but the momentum sent her straight into the blazes.

Scorching pain raced up her arm as heat surrounded her, and she screamed and scrambled backwards. Her father stood there, almost smirking as he watched her. She stood and ran outside, falling into the snow, easing the blistered skin. Tears fell from her eyes as howls of anguish ripped through her tiny chest at the injustice of it all.

“Joan, you have two minutes to get to bed or you will not sleep today,” he said from the door way, his hulking frame covering most of the space.

Joan sniffled and eased herself up, walked through a small gap in the door and went to her room. Her arm burned mercilessly, reminding her there were even worse things than the cold. At least with the cold, she couldn’t feel anything. Maybe that was her problem. If she didn’t feel anything, it wouldn’t hurt, and if it didn’t hurt, she could get through this.

Concentrating, she pushed past the throbbing in her arm until she barely noticed it. With a deep sigh too old for her young body, she drifted off into a troubled sleep.

* * *

 

_Darkness clouded her vision. She was so cold, no, she was hot. What was wrong with her? A small shimmer of light reflected in the distance off of a small pool of water. Curiosity got the better of her, and her feet started in the direction of it. She arrived at a pond, thin ice coated the edges, appearing sharp as razor blades._

_A young girl, maybe around five, sat at the edge gazing into the pool. Joan walked over to her and sat down next to her._

_“Hi, I’m Joan, what’s your name?” The girl looked up at her, with the most tender and sweetest face Joan had ever seen._

_“I’m Vera. What are you doing here?”_

_“I’m not sure, I saw this light and I followed it here. What are you doing here?”_

_“I don’t know. I just woke up here.”_

_Joan’s vision became hazy as the edges blurred. Pain coursed through her body. She was so cold, no, she was hot. What was wrong with her?_

* * *

 

She bolted awake in her bed, drenched in sweat, her fever high. Her arm hurt more than anything she had ever experienced before. Tears escaped her as she stared at the mangled flesh of her arm. Infection soared through her body, and she laid there in agony, waiting for death. Her father came into the room, took one look at her and left. A few minutes later, or maybe it was a few hours, Joan couldn’t tell anymore, he appeared again with a tray of bowls.

“Drink this Joan. You need to drink this or you will die.”

Her mind wanted to defy him as she mouthed in the smallest reply, “But I want to die.”

He seized her jaw and pried her lips apart, forcing the liquid into her. She swallowed reflexively so as she wouldn’t choke. She felt her arm lifted up and a cool salve was spread onto the burnt flesh. Instant relief left a feeling of nothingness in it's wake. Joan drifted back into sleep, the mattress creaking as her father stood and left the room.

No, she wouldn’t die today. As long as Joan could remember, her father has been like this, pushing her endurance, extending her stamina, teaching her that life is hard and it only becomes harder and if she learned now, she would be better prepared. It is just pain, and pain can be controlled.

 

 


	2. A Mistake

Vera sat on the bubble gum pink rug in the middle of her bedroom floor, a vast array of dolls surrounding her so that maybe, if only for a brief moment, she wouldn’t feel as lonely as she truly did. She heard a man’s voice on the TV in the other room, knowing her mother had fallen asleep hours ago in front of it.  
She picked listlessly at the doll's dress in her hands, her stomach growling, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since the night before. She dropped the doll and stood up, her brown curls bouncy around her head. She quietly headed towards the kitchen, careful not to wake her mother.

She dragged a step stool to the refrigerator and climbed up, grabbing the box of coveted cereal, and climbed back down. After putting the step stool back in it’s place, she got a bowl and spoon and some milk out of the refrigerator.

  
When she finished fixing her a bowl of cereal, she crept back to her room to eat it. The TV droned on aimlessly in the other room. She was careful not to spill a single drop onto her rug, knowing the punishment would be severe.

  
The silence hit her first, like a bucket of ice water, before she was flung across the room from the blow. Crying as she sat up, she glanced over to see her mother fuming, holding the box of cereal she had forgotten to replace on top of the refrigerator. Her bowl lay upside down, it’s contents covered the rug.

“Vera you disgusting pig, sneaking and eating food are we? What have I told you about that?” her mother sneered at her, hate clearly shown in her eyes. 

“But momma, I was hungry,” she sobbed out as she moved to clean up the mess she knew she would be punished for.

“Hungry? Hungry?! Do you think food just appears in the kitchen? Do you think since your no good daddy left that we have the extra money for you to eat up all of the food?” she angrily shouted at her.

Vera shrank into herself, desperately trying to clean up the mess. Her hair was snatched up, her mother’s fingers like claws in her scalp as she dragged her to her closet door. Vera screamed.

“No momma, no please!! Not the closet, not the dark, please!!”

She threw her in and shut the door, the only light coming from the small space underneath. The lock clicked as she locked the door.

“When you can learn to listen and obey, then you may come out,” her voice outside of the door taunted.

Vera curled up into the furthest corner, squeezing her eyes shut. Her shirt was damp with milk, and Vera didn’t see why she had to wear it if she was in there. She found a shirt hanging up and pulled it down, discarding her dirty one, and pulled the clean one over her head. She curled up into a ball on the blanket she had stashed away in there, and exhausted, her little eyes closed and she fell asleep.

* * *

 

_Vera sat up, noticing it was much lighter here. There appeared to be a small pond, partly frozen over in front of her. The grass sparkled with the wintery bite of frost, but strangely she felt warm. She sat and pondered where she was and how she got there, when she heard a small rustle near her._

_“Hi I’m Joan, what’s your name?” a small voice spoke beside her._

_She turned her head and gazed at the person, a girl barely older than her, with long straight black hair, and eyes as dark as the pond water in front of her._

_“I’m Vera. What are you doing here?” she replied to the stranger. She noticed the girl didn’t look well and that she favored her left arm. Charred flesh peeked around the sleeve of the dress she was wearing._

_“I’m not sure, I saw this light and I followed it here. What are you doing here?”_

_“I don’t know. I just woke up here.”_

_Before she could say anything else, the girl began to fade away with a shimmer of air around her. Strange. She was alone again. Always alone. She picked up a flat stone and chucked it at the water, breaking it’s mirror, sending ripples to the shore. A picture formed in the middle of the reflective center, showing the girl she had just met, caught in the midst of a fevered state._

  
_So it’s true, she thought. She is sick._

_She stood up and walked slowly up to the edge, testing the ice by stepping one foot on it. It held. She walked across the glass like surface to the middle and gazed at the girl. For a second, her heart stuttered as she stared. She felt terrible for what Joan was experiencing, and wished there was some way to help._

  
_Vera slid and lost her balance, tumbling into the icy water. She tried to swim up to the surface, but she kept sinking. The inky darkness of the water consumed her as her tiny lungs fought to hold what little air remained in them. She gasped, taking a breath of water as her eyes bolted open._

* * *

 

  
She awoke inside her closet, the door ajar where she assumed her mother came and opened it while she slept. The light had begun to fade outside of her window, with it’s frilly white curtains creating shadow patterns on the opposite wall.

  
She was a bit groggy as she crawled out of the tight confines of the closet. She looked around her room, noticing the dolls were not in the floor where she left them. Looking around, she still couldn’t find them.  
A strange feeling crept into her chest as she went into the other room where she heard the wood stove blazing it’s fire inside. Her already broken heart dropped as she saw the last of her dolls being shoved into the fire by her mother, who turned and saw her. A twisted grin lit up her face until her eyes looked remarkably like marbles with the light dancing inside of them. Or maybe it resembled the eyes of a dead fish instead.

Vera dropped to her knees sobbing as her only friends burned. She watched through glazed, watery eyes as the dress she had just picked earlier, caught fire, and the last trace of them had turned to ash.

“You will listen, Vera. You will obey, or I will take everything you have and burn it all as you watch. The world doesn’t want you, your daddy didn’t want you, and God knows I didn’t want you in the first place, but I had no choice but to keep you. So you either listen, or you will lose everything, you hear?”

  
Vera shed her silent tears as she nodded, reminded once again in her short life that she was a mistake. Her mother was young, her dad older. They were never meant to make her, but they did. Her dad moved away to another country and left her mom pregnant with her. After she was born, he came back for the first couple years of her life, but he couldn’t stand living with her mother and a screaming, crying infant every day, so he packed up and moved away again.

  
The amount of money he sent monthly hardly put any food on the table, let alone buy Vera any clothes or toys. Her grandparents would save up and buy her a toy, once for her birthday, and once for Christmas. Those dolls she had owned was the product of many birthdays and Christmases. The clothes were mostly hand-me-downs from the kids in town.

  
Vera’s mother closed the grate to the wood stove and placed the poker back in it’s holder. She headed towards the kitchen and Vera could hear the sound of cabinets banging open and closed. She looked around, making sure her mother wasn’t watching her, grabbed her coat that was hanging up on a hook, and put on her boots. She silently crept outside through the small door used to bring firewood in.

  
There had to have been over a foot of snow glistening over the hills. A chilly northern wind blew her face to a bright red. She kicked a lump of snow in her path and walked towards the houses in the distance.

  
Vera was still unfamiliar with the area. Her mother had recently moved them there last month, when she couldn’t afford the rent in their last house. Her breath billowed out into the air in a cloud of frost. She noticed a house off to the side, separated from the niche of houses. She walked closer to it, noticing a window with light shining from it.

  
Walking up to it, she hoisted herself up onto the ledge and wiped a circular spot on the glass. Peering in, she gasped. In a bare room that contained only a thin bed and a small nightstand next to it, laid the girl from her dream.

  
_Joan. I didn’t think you were real._

  
She appeared as she did in her dream, sick, her arm covered in some kind of medicinal cream. Pain caused her face to appear pinched, making her appear older than what she was. Her body moved restlessly in her sleep, unaware she was being watched.

  
Vera looked around the window, seeing if there was a way to open it, when she glanced down and noticed the metal pole in the ground with the chain attached. Frozen droplets of blood coated the inside of the manacles. Vera’s eyes widened in terror as scenarios too advanced for her young age rushed through her mind.

  
She tried opening the window, and found out it was unlocked. Quietly she slid the glass frame upwards, slipped inside, and pulled it back down. Turning around, she looked at Joan again, lying in a puddle of sweat, her thin body looked even more malnourished than hers. She was tall though, much taller than Vera.  
Looking at every inch of her exposed skin, Vera took notice of crisscrossing scars that littered her limbs. Sorrow filled Vera as she walked over to the tray on the nightstand, scooping out the rag left in a bowl of melted snow water, and patting Joan’s feverish face with it.

  
Joan moaned softly, painfully in her sleep, mumbling incoherent words. Vera’s broken heart crumbled just a little more for this poor girl that was clearly suffering. Joan’s eyelids fluttered for a split second and then opened, glazed eyes staring through Vera. Her heart stopped as they focused on her and she heard her voice.

“What are you doing here? How did you get in my room?”


	3. Solace

It was hot, blistering hot. Her parched throat burned as if all of the sands of the Sahara Desert that she had heard so much about were using it as an hour glass, slowly counting down the time until her death. Her eyes felt as if they were the top section of the hour glass, containing the sand that had yet to fall.

  
Suddenly, an oasis consumed her hot face. She felt water trickle precariously over the slope of her cheekbones, pooling gently into the dip of her inflamed eyelids. Slowly, she chanced opening her eyes, but the image in front of her blurred beyond comprehension. Finally, it cleared enough to see Vera standing by her bed, a shell shocked look upon her face.

  
“What are you doing here? How did you get in my room?”

  
Her throat hurt terribly, almost as bad as the time when she was six, her father had taken her to the woodshed, strapped her to the ceiling with her arms behind her back, and there she stood for three days. No food, no water, no comfort at all. When he did finally come fetch her, she was halfway comatose, delirious. He nursed her back, then told her the next time would be longer. The next time… It hadn’t arrived yet, but every day she waited in fear of it’s arrival.

  
Vera looked a bit lost, sadness clouded her bright, blue eyes. Her curls were plastered to her skin from the constant snow Russia seemed to keep.

  
“I…I walked here from my house,” she said and gestured in the direction. “Your window was unlocked, and I saw you and you looked hurt so I came in.”

  
Joan looked around the tray for a glass of water, seeing none, she turned to Vera and asked her if she could scoop some snow off of the ledge for her.  
Vera quickly went to the window, careful not to let it squeak, and scooped a handful off the side she hadn’t been on. It was cold on her hands as she formed a small snowball and handed it to Joan, who quickly ate the snow, a small smile forming from the relief.

  
Vera climbed up on her bed, her little legs dangling, so she began kicking them back and forth as she waited on Joan to finish. Glancing out of the window, Vera could see the sun was long over the horizon, her mother would be angry at her for being gone. She glanced over at Joan who was silently staring at her as if she was a ghost.

  
“You were in my dream,” said Joan, finally breaking the silence.

  
“Yeah well, you were in mine,” Vera mumbled as she looked anywhere but at Joan.

  
Suddenly warm arms encircled her and Vera gasped. She shakily put her arms around Joan and the two girls found solace in the simplicity of each other. Vera rarely had hugs, and when she did, it was just her grandparents. Joan had never had any human comfort, let alone a hug. It felt…nice.

  
They broke apart, all smiles, and talked for a couple hours about everything under the sun, about their lives, until a noise in the other room caused the hummingbird in Joan’s chest to beat it’s wings in the confines of her ribcage. Vera ran to the window and slid out, quietly shutting it behind her. She watched as Joan settled back into her bed as if she had never moved.

  
Her door quietly opened, Joan’s father carrying another tray into the room and setting it on top of the other. Picking up the bowl, he gripped her jaw and forced the liquid down her throat. Joan swallowed and coughed, liquid sputtering from her lips. She stared up at him, defiance in her eyes. He roughly grabbed her arm and she screamed, as he dug his fingers in right at the edge of the burn. He scooped up some salve and spread it evenly over the flesh.

  
Vera watched from outside in horror, careful not to make any noises. She watched Joan say something to him, his hand shot out and backhanded her. Vera quickly stuffed her fist into her mouth before she screamed, tears flowing down her face. He left her room, taking the trays with him. Joan lay on her side, a large handprint covering half of her face.

  
Vera tapped on the window, and when Joan saw her still there, she placed her hand on the glass. Joan waved back at her, then turned over and went back to sleep. Vera ran back through the path she had created. When she reached the door, she found it to be locked. Frustration bubbled over as she looked for a window, and in finding one, climbed inside. She took off her coat and boots and crept into the kitchen.

  
The TV droned in the other room. She opened the refrigerator door and grabbed a piece of meat leftover from dinner, and crept to her room. After eating it, she climbed into bed, the aching loneliness from the emptiness of her bed that had long held her precious dolls consumed her mind. She fell into a fitful sleep, with dreams of her dolls being alive, her mother burning them as they screamed, that sounded exactly like Joan’s screams.

The next morning, Vera awoke to find her mother gone. She worked at the clothes factory sewing clothes all day. A welcome relief came, knowing she had the day to herself. She went the bathroom, washed her hands, and went to find some food. She settled on a banana, devouring it as she got dressed. She put on her coat and boots and ran the way back to Joan’s. When she got there, she saw the light in her window was on.

  
She crept up to the window and peered in, seeing Joan sitting up in her bed. She looked better, her skin not quite as waxy, and her eyes didn’t seem unnaturally bright with fever. Joan’s father was in the room, he was talking to her but Vera couldn’t hear what he said. He picked her up roughly, and she lay limp in his arms as he carried her into another room.

  
Joan allowed her father to carry her to the tub, not that she really had a choice in the matter. He set her in and went about washing her, and when he was done, he rinsed her off. He drained the water and wrapped a towel around her and dried her off, then handed her some clothes to put on. He carried her back to the bedroom and placed her on the bed.

  
She bit back a sharp pain as her arm was jostled. She glanced out of the window and saw a little familiar face staring at her. She quickly looked away so as not to give Vera away.

  
“It is just pain, Joan. You will learn one day that emotions are useless, that they will only hurt you more in the end,” he said, for probably the hundred thousandth time in her brief span of life. If emotions were so bad though, why did it feel good with Vera? The little scrap of a person had warmed her heart, and had somehow burrowed herself in.

  
Her father left, Joan scurried out of bed and unlocked the window, seeing Vera crouched down below the ledge.

  
“Come on,” she whispered, offering her a hand that Vera took gladly. She scrambled into the room, quickly hugging Joan and taking her by surprise. Joan smiled and hugged her back, and they sat at the window sill and talked for a long time. Vera told her that she could come over to her house sometime, she had toys she could play with. A pained look flitted across Joan’s face for a split second, but agreed she could sneak over one night.

  
They said goodbye and Vera snuck back out and went back home before her mother arrived. She went back to her room and made like she had been there all day, so that when the front door creaked open, her mother wouldn’t be angry at her for going out.

  
Her mother came to the door, and peered in at Vera sitting on her pink rug, a couple toys around her. Her eyes appeared dead, the light gone from them.

  
“I hope you’ve been here all day, Vera. I know about you sneaking out last night. For that, you get no dinner tonight. Bad girls don’t get rewards.” With a brief smirk on her face, she turned and left Vera alone again, her stomach growling, the banana she ate earlier so long ago. She crawled into bed and slept, dreams filled with Joan, playing with her, running through the hills in the summer, laughing, happy, like normal kids.


	4. Inseparable

_Five years later_

  
Joan inhaled slowly, short puffs of much needed oxygen. A sharp pang told her that one of her ribs were broken, allowing the hummingbird that remained ever trapped within to slip a wing through the empty space. Her head hung forward, too heavy to keep upright. Her shoulders and back burned with hell’s fury from the marred tracks left from her father’s bullwhip.

  
Her arms were blessedly numb, the circulation long severed from the ropes that bound her to the ceiling of the woodshed. She knew if she could just hold on until nightfall, Vera would come, bringing water and any food she could carry.

  
Joan’s thoughts reflected on the memory of her twelfth birthday. A small, pained smile briefly lit up her exhausted face. Vera had accomplished quite a few odd jobs around town while her mother worked at the factory. With the money she made, she had bought Joan a small cupcake with a single candle in the center of it, and a wrapped gift. Joan had gasped in surprise, her mouth forming an O as she gently took the box from Vera.

  
Careful not to tear the paper, she took off the velvet ribbon encasing the box, then lifted the corners of the paper. When she opened the box, her eyes lit up like two fireflies as she picked up the delicate golden ring. She flung herself at Vera, hugging her tightly.

“Thank you, Vera, thank you so much,” she softly cried into her shoulder.

  
Vera returned the hug, a wave of warmth spreading from her hair to the tips of her fingers and toes. She had spent weeks saving up for that ring. Joan leaned back and slipped the ring on her finger, then picked up the cupcake and split it between the two of them.

  
That was the only birthday Joan had ever celebrated.

* * *

  
Vera slipped the last of the resources into her bag, keeping an ear out for signs of her mother waking up. The TV droned from the other room. She zipped it up and placed her arms into the loops. She had grown a lot since she met Joan, she wasn’t as small now. Climbing through the windows proved to be more of a challenge, but like with any challenge, Vera was ready to face it.

  
The moon reflected in her bright blue eyes as she trekked the well-worn path between hers and Joan’s houses. This had become the custom for them, Joan’s father “testing” her, placing her through seemingly never ending trials, and Vera would come and rescue her, or at least comfort her to the best of her abilities.

  
Some days, she would sit outside of her window and listen to his speeches, about how Joan needed to learn how to get into the mind of her enemies, that pain was just an unwanted emotion, and if she would learn to suppress her emotions, the pain would dissipate. He only left her alone at nightfall.

  
Some nights Vera would bring her toys for them to play with, but she always made sure they all came back with her. It was on those days Joan resembled the child she actually was. They had become completely inseparable, both dependent on each other to get through the next day.

  
Vera saw the woodshed in the distance, where she knew Joan had been left for three days now. Her heart skipped a beat as it often did when she was close to seeing Joan. Sliding the door open, the rusted hinges let out a high pitched sound. She sidled through the narrow gap and closed the door, pressing her thin back against the wall as she fought to still her fast beating heart.

  
There was no sound outside indicating he had heard anything. Vera released the breath she had been holding and peeled herself off of the dirty wall.

  
“Joan? It’s me,” she whispered into the darkness.

  
“Vera, it’s so good to see you,” Joan replied.

  
Vera walked over to her, taking in how her head hung limply, her hair dirty, her body covered in red welts. She slid her bag off of her back and pulled the bottle of water out of it’s confines. Raising it to Joan’s lips, she gently tilted it so she could drink. For the third time this week, Vera reached up and loosened the bindings around Joan’s bruised wrists.

  
They fell with a thud to her sides, the pain almost unbearable as circulation fought to return blood to her limbs. They sat and Vera handed her the bag of food that Joan desperately tore into.

  
“Mrs. Pritchard has offered for me to come walk her dogs every day for a bit of money,” she said.

  
She knew the town people liked her because of her bouncy curls and her blue eyes, and her adorable pouty lips. They trusted her and offered her small jobs to earn money to buy her clothes and snacks. Joan on the other hand, was never allowed to go to town. The one time she had attempted to, her father found out and chained her outside to that metal pole for two days.

  
Joan looked up at her from the snack cake she was eating, her long lashes figure skaters across the ice of her cheeks. Her hand snaked out and circled Vera’s wrist that wasn’t quite as thin since she was buying food on the side. Slowly she leaned forward, watching Vera’s eyes widen and her breaths quicken. Joan closed her eyes as her lips brushed against Vera’s, trying to convey the stunted emotions her father daily tried to carve out of her.

  
She pulled back, her eyelids fluttering open, gazing softly at the only friend she had ever had, who meant more to her than Vera would ever know.

“Thank you for everything,” she said, shyness creeping into her voice.

  
She continued eating the snack cake, not daring to glance at Vera. Warmth surrounded her hand as Vera held it, and Joan peered at her, a wide smile on her face.

  
“I should be the one thanking you, Joan,” Vera said with a small smile.

  
The night grew late, and Vera knew she would have to bind Joan again and clean up any remnants of their nightly visit. Joan stood and brushed off her hands and raised them above her head, allowing Vera to bind them together. She had become quite adept at the knots, forcing herself to learn so that Joan’s father couldn’t tell the difference.

  
When that was finished, she picked up the trash and put it all in her bag, looping it around her arms. She walked up to Joan, who had resumed her earlier pose of her head hanging. Vera wrapped her arms around her middle, her ear placed against her ribs. She could hear the fluttering of the hummingbird wings inside.

“Bye, Joan, I’ll be back tomorrow night.”

  
She pulled away and headed towards the door, opening a narrow gap for her to slide through.

  
“Bye Vera,” Joan’s small voice called from the darkness.

  
Guilt washed through her, knowing there was nothing else she could do, but knowing just the same she wished there was. She slid through, closing the door behind her, and took off back home.

* * *

 

Joan saw the light slipping through the cracks in the wall. Rusty tools littered the tables in the corners of the building. Below, old straw dotted the floor. She drew patterns into the straw with her big toe, her arms once again numb. Flies buzzed quietly around her ears but she could do nothing about it.

  
Hours passed, the sun gliding higher into the sky on it’s golden chariot. She gave up hope her father would come and let her down, silently accepting the fact she would be here another night, when the door opened and his great frame stepped inside.

  
Joan was positive she looked broken and exhausted as she hung there limply, too afraid to speak. He walked over and unbound her, letting her fall to the ground. Shock coursed through her body on impact. He shoved a glass of water into her face and she drank greedily.

  
“Breakfast is ready inside. Go in and clean yourself up and come eat.”

  
Joan nodded and dragged herself to the house, into her room. Opening the closet, she selected an outfit that she used when she was too sore for others. Once she was in the bathroom, she turned on the shower and stepped into the warm spray. She turned her head upwards, enjoying the feel of the water against her tender skin.

  
She glanced down and seeing the soap, she picked it up and lathered it into her hair. After she was finished rinsing out the suds, she picked up her washcloth and lathered it, and scrubbed the dirt from her flesh, careful to mind the rib she was sure was at least fractured. Joan turned off the water and stepped out, grabbing her towel and drying off. She just managed to finish dressing herself before her father appeared.

  
Joan followed him to the kitchen table, and sat down gratefully. A plate of food sat before her, chunks of caribou meat in a rich brown gravy, with fresh greens on the side. Her mouth watered and she began to eat, shooting quick, nervous glances at her father who sat across from her.

  
He ate like he did everything else, with exact precision. Not one drop of gravy was spilled.

  
“You need your strength, Joan. Today we begin your fencing lessons. Every great leader , every strategist, first learned the art of fencing. It sharpens your reflexes, hones your critical thinking. With enough practice, you will learn to incorporate the thinking process into everyday life.”

He stared hard at her, the lines around his eyes taunt. Joan saw very little of herself in this man. Once when she was very young, she had found a hidden box that contained photographs of who she could only assume was her mother. Joan resembled her a lot, her long straight black hair in a ponytail, and her smile. She had an amazing smile that Joan could stare at all day. The sound of her father in the other room spooked her and she had quickly shut the box and put it back.

  
She acknowledged that she heard him, finished eating the food that now sat like sawdust in her throat. When they were done, she cleaned the table and awaited her father. He led her outside to the car, and they drove to the fencing building he frequented every Saturday. He spent half of the morning teaching her the different moves, walking her through each one, until she moved through each like a fish through water.

* * *

  
The school day ended, Vera packed her books back in her bag and left, and headed towards Mrs. Pritchard's. She had three dogs that she loved, but she was an older woman who couldn’t care for them as she used to. Vera was so good with them, they were ecstatic to see her every day on her walk back home from school.

  
When she had finished walking the dogs and collected the money from Mrs. Pritchard, she headed towards the town bakery to buy her daily snacks for her and Joan. Stepping inside, the aroma of bread and cake enticed her senses. A myriad of cakes of every shape and color lined the shelves, ensnaring those that entered.

  
Vera walked over to the baskets that held the prepackaged snacks and picked up a few, carrying them to the counter. Mr. Tally stood at the register, an older man who was nice to Vera.

  
“Well hello, Vera. How was school today?”

  
“It was great. I was called up to the board to solve a math problem and I got it right.”

  
Vera smiled at the memory, knowing she was ahead of her class. Her teacher had already stated she should be moved ahead a grade next year, the work she did now wasn’t at all challenging.

  
“That’s good, Vera. Is that all you’re getting today?”

  
“Yes, sir, Mrs. Pritchard’s paying me to walk her dogs now.”

  
“Well that’s sweet of you to do that for her. Anyways, the total is $6.35.”

  
Vera pulled out her money and handed him $7, taking her change and putting it away for later. Vera had begun saving up her spare change, in case she needed it one day. She exited the shop and headed home to clean up the house before her mother returned.

* * *

  
Joan crouched in the farthest corner of her closet, exhausted, her side throbbing with the intensity of the sun. Fencing had went well, but with every step she had taken, the fractured rib glided against itself. She could already feel the after effects of the exercise though, her body already felt slightly more toned, slight hardened muscles that had formed over the years becoming more defined.

  
She felt around the wall until she felt a ridge, which she pulled out revealing a square hole. Reaching inside, she pulled out a box containing the gifts Vera had given her. She slipped the golden ring onto her finger, feeling the delicate metal entwining around a small sapphire. Next she uncovered the doll Vera said she had bought because it reminded her of Joan with it’s black hair and dark eyes. It’s flower printed dress appeared hand sewn, embroidered with tiny blue lilacs, and a black velvet ribbon encircled her waist.

  
Joan hugged the doll tightly as a single tear dropped on to the dress. She wiped her face and replaced the items back in the box, instead taking out the one photograph she had taken of her mother. She wished she had known her. The one time she had asked her father about her, he became angry and told her she had died because she was weak. She never asked of her again.

  
She replaced everything back in the hole and sealed it back up, then crawled out of the closet and slipped into bed to wait until nightfall.


	5. Ferris Wheel

Vera had an impossible time trying to keep her mind on cleaning when it was constantly drifting back to Joan kissing her. What did it mean? Her broken heart that had been slowly mending over the past few years fluttered each time she thought of it, and she’d unconsciously touch her lips in a daze.

  
She knew what it was and what it normally led to because of the older kids at school. She didn’t think that was Joan’s reasoning though, was it? Vera would shake her head to rid herself of the thoughts and resume cleaning, only to find herself right back at it.  
The front door clicked open and her mother stepped inside, bags of groceries in her hands. Vera rushed over to help her carry them to the kitchen and put them away. Her mother appeared extra tired today, which meant she would be in a bad mood.

  
“I see you managed to sit on your no-good, lazy ass today while I’ve slaved away to make sure we have a roof over our heads.”

  
It was the same conversation everyday, no matter how much Vera scrubbed the house spotless. Some days, she didn’t know why she even bothered.

  
“Momma, I did clean the house soon as I got back from school, I swear,” she said in a quiet, timid voice. Vera knew if she spoke any louder, she would be punished. Her mother called it disrespectful.

  
Rita snorted and said, “School, a waste of time if you ask me. You could be doing other things, like getting a job and helping me pay bills.”

  
Vera never dared to tell her about her odd jobs she had from the town’s people, or the money she had saved up and hidden.

  
“I will when I’m older, momma, I promise."

  
That seemed to satisfy her for now, as she took out ingredients to make supper. Vera left the kitchen and went to take a bath before supper. As she sat in the water, a thought crossed her mind. While she was walking Mrs. Pritchard’s dogs earlier that day, she had passed a flyer advertising the fair that was opening tonight. She wondered if Joan would go with her to it.

Vera stood up, water cascading down her thin body as she reached for her towel. She unplugged the water and watched it flow down the drain as she dried herself off. She quickly got dressed and went back to the kitchen as her mother was just finishing placing the food on their plates. Vera went to the silverware drawer and started setting the table, and they sat down to eat.

  
She had fixed a dish called solyanka, a sweet and sour soup with lots of beef and pork in it. Vera ate every bit of it, savoring the taste. Her momma talked on about her day in the factory and how with the warmer weather, it was becoming stifling hot inside. Vera listened and nodded when she was supposed to, but her mind was wandering to the fair tonight and how to get Joan there.

  
When they were finished, she cleaned up the table and stored away the leftovers, and washed the dishes. Her mother went to the living room, and Vera heard the TV click on. It’s mindless drone drowned out any noise Vera made.

  
She dried off her hands and told her momma she was going to her room. Once inside, she closed the door and began to pack her bag, and picked out an outfit to wear. She settled on a pair of new jeans she had bought the other day, and a sky blue tank top with darker blue sequins.

  
Vera pulled out another outfit, larger than hers. It consisted of a pair of black jeans and a dark purple shirt that had crisscrossing laces in the back. She smiled, hoping Joan would love it as much as she did. She brushed out her hair and put them in pigtails with white ribbons.

  
She glanced at her window and saw that the sun had sank below the horizon and the full moon stared at the world through it’s watchful eye. Vera dropped to the floor beside her bed and carefully removed a loose plank from the floor. She took the small container out and opened it, removed a wad of cash from it, and replaced the box back in the hole. She place the plank back into it’s spot and stuffed the money into her jeans pocket.

  
She grabbed her bag and Joan’s outfit, which she put inside and then looped around her shoulders. Vera opened her window, climbed outside, and closed it back. She made the all too familiar walk to Joan’s. Looking in the distance, she could see the lights from the carnival and the top of the Ferris wheel, slowly turning like the hands on an analog clock.

  
Joan’s house appeared when she reached the top of the hill that was covered in blossoming carnations. Vera smiled as she reached down to pick a few, and after tearing off a piece of twine, she tied them together into a bouquet.

She reached Joan’s window and crouched down out of sight. She peered into the window and saw that Joan was alone, sitting on her bed staring into space. She tapped on the window and Joan shot a look towards her, a huge smile lighting up her face as she saw Vera. She jumped up and unlocked the window, quietly sliding it open to let Vera in.

Vera hoisted herself up on the ledge and gracefully slid into the room. Joan hugged her and beckoned towards the bed as she went to sit back down. Vera handed her the bouquet of flowers, which caused Joan's eyes to light up as she took them and smelled them. Joan could tell Vera was excited about something.

“There’s a carnival just outside of town that I’d love for us to go to, “she said. “Your dad won’t be in here until morning and I’ll have you back way before then. Besides, tomorrow is my birthday, “she said with an almost embarrassed look.

  
Joan looked taken aback for a minute before replying, “But I don’t have anything to wear.” She dropped her head, chewing on her bottom lip in frustration.

  
“I’ve got that covered!” Vera said excitedly as she pulled her bag off her back. She unzipped it, bringing out the carefully folded outfit she had bought Joan.

  
She looked up at her as she handed her the outfit, gauging her reaction. Joan picked up the shirt, her eyes lighting up, glistening with unshed tears. She threw her arms around Vera’s neck and hugged her, kissing her cheek and pulling away.

  
“Thank you so much, Vera.”

  
“Your welcome, now hurry and get dressed so we can go.”

  
Joan stood up and shed her clothes, facing away from Vera. Vera couldn’t help but to stare at her back, the marks her father had put on her still raw. Joan pulled the shirt over her head, then reached for her jeans. She pulled them up and buttoned them. She turned towards Vera, who thought she looked astounding.

  
“Wow Joan. You look… the clothes fit you perfectly, “she said.

  
Joan smiled and reached out her hand towards Vera who took it.

  
“Come on, let’s go.”

  
Vera replaced her bag back on her back. They opened the window and Joan climbed out, who then helped Vera. They closed the window, then took off towards the distant carnival.

* * *

  
When they arrived, Vera paid for the two tickets to get in, giving one to Joan. Joan wanted to ride the roller coaster first, the adrenaline rush to enticing to ignore. So they waited in line for a few minutes until it was their turn. They were buckled in and the car took off. The first drop, Vera screamed and buried her face into Joan’s shoulder. Joan hollered and yelled, having a blast.

  
When it was over, they went to a few of the carny games. Joan was a crack shot at the balloon and darts game, managing to win Vera a teddy bear, who thought it would be funny to name Goldfish as she laughed.

  
The clock struck midnight, and Joan stopped and looked at Vera.

  
“Happy birthday, Vera, “she said, smiling.

  
“Thanks, “she replied, blushing as she looked down at the ground.

  
She took Joan’s hand and they held hands as they walked up to the Ferris wheel. They stepped into the seat and buckled up, then began the slow ascent into the night sky.

  
Joan looked over at Vera nervously. “Vera… do you like me?”

  
Vera quickly looked at her. “Of course I like you.”

  
“No, I mean, do you like me, like me?” She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, waiting for Vera’s answer.

  
Vera’s eyes widened. She meant like the older kids at school, the ones who dated each other. She sat staring transfixed at a bright star in the distance as they neared the top. With a grinding of the gears, the Ferris wheel came to a halt. The memory of the kiss came to her mind, the way her heart always seemed to flutter when she was near Joan, the way Joan made her feel. Was that what it felt like?

  
Vera looked back at Joan, and picked up her hand, startling her into opening her eyes.

  
“Yes, Joan, I do like you, “she whispered.

  
The hummingbird in Joan’s chest momentarily broke free as elation filled her. She tightly hugged Vera as the gears started again and the Ferris wheel began it’s slow descent.

  
“I like you, too Vera, “she whispered into Vera’s hair. “You’re my best friend.”

  
She tucked a loose tendril of hair behind Vera’s ear, and sat back until they reached the bottom. They got off and decided to get something to eat. A bunch of kids surrounded the food court as they walked up to it. They all turned and stared at the two girls holding hands, one they knew from school, and the other they had never seen before.

  
They began whispering among themselves as the two self consciously walked up to get some food.

  
_“Hey, that’s the girl from school.”_

  
_“Why is she holding that girl’s hand?”_

  
_“Do you think…?_  
_“My parents once had to give her all of my old clothes before.”_

  
_“Mine did, too. I heard they took up a bunch of clothes because hers stunk.”_

  
_“Like what?”_

  
_“I don’t know, that’s just what I heard.”_

  
_“So you’re saying she had stinky pants?”_

  
“Hey stinky pants, why don’t you and your weird girlfriend go somewhere else? Don’t nobody want you here.”

  
The kids began circling around them, chanting stinky pants. Vera’s face went beet red, knowing it wasn’t true, but too scared to say anything.

  
The kid’s saw the marks on Joan and their eyes widened.

  
“Look at her skin…. She’s a freak of nature!”

  
“Freak, freak, freak, stinky pants, stinky pants, stinky pants, “they chanted over and over again until Vera ran to the bathrooms crying. When she was gone, Joan turned back to the kids, her eyes coal black with an ice cold look. They stopped laughing and looked at her.

She walked up to the nearest kid and drew back her arm and busted his nose. Blood flew everywhere, then he doubled over as her fist connected into his stomach.

  
She leaned in close to his ear and whispered, “If you ever so much as talk to Vera again, I will come to your house while you are sleeping and I will kill you.”

  
She shoved him to the ground, grabbed the next kid and kneed him in the groin. He dropped to the ground and rolled to his side. She grabbed the hair of a blonde girl and ripped a chunk of it out as she screamed, then kicked her solidly in the spine. She dropped to the ground and attempted to crawl away. The other kids ran away, leaving nothing but dust behind them. She walked up to the second boy who was just getting to his feet again, and gave him an uppercut. He went out cold on the ground.

  
Joan spit on the ground at them, and turned towards the bathrooms. When she got there, she found Vera inside a stall crying.

  
“Vera, come out, the kids are gone. Come on, we can go back home if you want.”

  
She heard a click as Vera unlocked the door and stepped out, her eyes red rimmed and swollen. She didn’t ask any questions, just took her hand and led her out of the bathroom. They headed back towards Joan’s. When they got there, Vera noticed splotches of dried blood on Joan’s shirt and asked about it.

  
“Oh it’s nothing, I just umm… look, you don’t have to worry about those other kids anymore.”

  
Vera looked up at her, and hugged her, her ear pressed against the hummingbird’s wings inside. They fluttered even harder as she hugged her, and Vera smiled knowingly. They parted and Joan climbed back in her window. They waved as Vera walked off back to her house for the night. When she arrived home, she put the extra money back in the hidden box and put Goldfish in her closet. She changed into her pajamas and crawled into bed.

  
Other than the kids, she had so much fun with Joan. The fair was amazing, everything lit up and all the rides. The Ferris wheel was her favorite, she thought with a smile. And Joan liked her. Vera drifted off to sleep, with dreams of Joan and her on the Ferris wheel filling her mind.


	6. Red Deer

Months passed by like a raft in the middle of the ocean. True to her father’s word, fencing became as natural to Joan as breathing. She learned to incorporate the thought processing into every day life, even going so far as to try and manipulate her father. It always failed, but she was determined to win.

  
She began to notice her body budding, her muscles sleek from the many hours of physical exercise she did daily. She had also grown a few inches, the top of her head nearly to her father’s chin. Her pain tolerance had increased dramatically, she was even able to reach a Zen like trance that allowed the hours to fly by faster.

For all that her father knew, she was becoming exactly what he wanted from her.

* * *

  
Joan’s father packed up the gear they would need to climb Mount Elbrus, a dormant volcano rich with snow and ice. Joan bundled up in the new snow outfit he had bought her, then packed more in her new bag. The time came to leave, and as they stepped outside onto the leaf strewn pathway, she gazed wistfully in the direction of Vera’s house.

  
They had said their tearful goodbyes the night before. Joan would be gone for a few days for additional training.

  
_“I miss you already, “Vera said in a muffled voice, her face pressed into Joan’s shoulder._

_“I know, “she replied, “but it’s just for a few days. Then everything will be back to normal.”_

_She hugged her tightly, knowing it would be their last for awhile. Vera had spent the entire night with her, leaving right before the sun grazed the horizon. Joan watched her from the window until she crossed over the hill and disappeared, the hummingbird inside slowing it’s wings as the realization she may not survive this trip set in._

Joan shook the thoughts from her mind and quickly caught up to her father’s long strides to the car. They loaded their gear and got in. Joan buckled her seatbelt and sat back in the seat as he pulled out of the driveway and began the long drive.

* * *

  
It became dark by the time they reached their destination, and the temperature had dropped dramatically. Joan’s teeth chattered as she stepped out of the car and helped her father set up camp.

“You go and collect some twigs and dry brush, I’ll set the tent up and get some firewood, “her father told her.

Joan nodded and set off towards the trees not far from their camp. She spotted some moss growing on the bark of a tree so she scraped some off, and placed it in her bag. Next, she scraped some bark off and placed it with the moss. She stooped down and began stacking twigs in her arms until she was loaded down, then made her way back to camp.

Joan stacked a neat pile beside the ring of stones her father had created. The sound of thudding wood echoed in the distance where he was chopping wood. She slipped off her bag and scooped out the bark and moss and placed them beside the stack of twigs, replaced her bag around her shoulders, and walked off towards the sound.

She came to the area and saw him swinging the axe, splitting the wood. He had already shed his coat, working up a sweat. She walked over and began loading up the wood into her arms, and without a backwards glance, she made the hike back to camp.  
Her father appeared a few minutes later, his arms ladened with more wood. He dropped it on top of Joan’s and set about placing twigs in a teepee shape, setting the bark and moss inside and lit it on fire. He stoked it to a blazing fire, then added the logs to it.

Joan stayed as far away from the fire as was acceptable, trying to calm the fear that had slowly set in. Her mind continuously returned to the day she was sent sprawling in the fireplace and the infection afterwards.

As he worked, he pointed out the steps he was doing, teaching Joan how to build the fire. She watched, asked questions when she was curious about something. When he was done, he brought out the pans and food, and cooked them supper.

After they were done, he sent Joan to the stream he saw to wash the dishes while he pitched the tent for them. She gathered the dishes and soap, grabbed the lantern, and hiked to the stream. When she arrived, she sat the lantern down and scrubbed the dishes in the ice cold water, mindful of the bank so she wouldn’t slip in. She heard a rustle near her in the tall grass, and she peered over to see a red deer staring at her.

Curious, she set the dishes to the side and slowly stood up, never breaking eye contact with the deer. Step by slow step, she walked up to the deer, and raised her hand. It allowed her to pet it’s nose, which felt like velvet. Joan’s thoughts rushed to Vera, and she had to choke back a sob. The deer stepped forward, graceful, as Joan slid her hands along it’s flank.

A shout from camp startled the deer and it bolted off back into the woods. Joan was disappointed, but she quickly gathered the lantern and dishes back up and hurried towards camp. She arrived back into the ring of light and stored the dishes back in it’s container. Her father was just finishing the tent when he noticed her back.

“What took you so long?” he asked in a rough, frustrated voice.

“There was a deer and it let me pet it, “Joan replied eagerly, naively.

Her father stopped for a second, continuing tapping the last of the pegs into the cold ground. He stood up and stretched, looking over towards Joan.

  
“Grab the sleeping bags and put them in the tent.”

Joan jumped up and went to the back of the car, removed the sleeping bags and took them into the tent. She placed them down and straightened them out, and exited. Her father sat near the fire, appearing to be in deep thought as he sat rigid, his spine like a steel rod down his back.

Joan sat across from him, the light from the fire illuminating the dark depths of her eyes. Her father, noticing she was there, snapped out of his reverie.

“How old are you again?” he asked suddenly.

“Umm…twelve dad. My birthday is December 21st,” she said, looking down at the ground.

“Good. You’re growing fast. You’re going to need your strength tomorrow. The cliffs are dangerous, the snow and ice treacherous. You’ll need to watch each step you take. Now go on, get to bed.”

Joan stood up and headed to the tent, unzipped it and stepped in. She sat on the edge of her sleeping bag and removed her bag, her boots, and coat. She slipped between the layers and zipped up her bag. She was drifting off when she heard her father come in and zip the tent up, then removed his coat and boots, too.

She fell asleep, wishing Vera was there with her.

* * *

 

Vera had gotten home in time to get ready for school. She snuck into her window and went to the bathroom to take a shower. She brushed her hair out and got dressed before her mother woke. After she got her bag packed, she went to the kitchen and started making breakfast, kasha with some fresh berries, and a couple hard boiled eggs, and a pot of coffee.

Her mother stumbled into the kitchen, obviously had just woken up. She sat at the table, rubbing her eyes as she forced herself to wake up.

“Good morning, momma, “said Vera quietly.

“Morning, Vera, “she said tiredly.

Vera got a cup down and poured some coffee into it and handed it to her. She took it and sipped it, slowly perking up. Vera went back to finishing breakfast, scooping out the kasha into a bowl and the egg on a tiny saucer. She placed a few berries on top of the thick porridge and placed it in front of her mother. She quickly got silverware and placed it, too.

“Thank you, “she said.

“Your welcome, momma.”

Vera poured herself some and sat down. It was a quiet breakfast, as was their routine since Vera was old enough now to cook. Her mother got another cup of coffee, finishing up the last remnants of her bowl.

Vera cleaned up the kitchen as her mother got dressed for work. The time came for Vera to start walking towards town to school, so she grabbed her bag and looped it around her shoulders and headed out the door.

* * *

  
A loud gunshot bolted Joan out of her sleep. She looked around and didn’t see her father. She threw on her coat and laced up her boots and went outside. Right outside of camp, stood her father over the fresh corpse of the deer she had petted the day before.  
Joan felt the hummingbird inside her chest drop as she stood there frozen to the ground as if she had grown icy roots like the mountain. Before she could think otherwise, she put on a burst of speed and sprinted towards the body, dropping down at it, sobbing loudly.

“Why dad, why? “she cried, the screams tearing through her throat as the sweet deer laid bleeding out from the fatal gunshot wound.

“I told you, Joan, emotions are weak, do not get attached to anything or anyone. And always take advantage of a situation. It followed you here last night and I saw an easy kill.”

Fury ripped through Joan, and all she could picture was the kids hurting Vera, sweet Vera who was no different than this deer that allowed her to get close to it. She snapped, jumped up and punched him in the face in one fluid motion. She screamed as she went to hit him again as his head flew backwards, but he caught her fist, easily crushing the fragile bones.

Joan screamed and fell to her knees when he released her, hugging her hand to her body. Her father rubbed the swollen mark on his cheek as he stared at her, rage barely kept in check.

Joan looked up at him, fury darkening her eyes until they resembled twin black holes. She stood up, carefully nursing her hand and trudged back to camp, leaving her father with the deer corpse. She opened the medic box and took out the ACE bandage inside and wrapped her hand up tight. She took all of the sleeping bags and folded them up one handed and packed them up. She pulled up all of the pegs and took the tent down, folding it up and putting it away, too.

Her father appeared, dragging the corpse. He stopped at the logs they had sat on the night before, and started dressing the deer. He slit it from sternum to anus, removed the organs and buried them away from camp. Joan couldn’t bear to watch, she sat and fumed by the car.

He started a fire and cut pieces of meat off and smoked the meat, placing them in plastic baggies. It took the whole day to do it, with Joan refusing to eat any of it as her father happily did. When it was all done and put away, her father determined it was a good time to start up the mountain, the light of the full moon the only source.

Joan slid on her bag, now even heavier with the sleeping bag on it and part of the venison her father had put in it. He began the hike up with Joan following in his footsteps, armed with an ice axe and rope.  
About a mile up, the thought crossed her mind that she could kill him, one blow with the ice axe to his head, take the car keys, and go back. No one would ever know. The impulse hit, and right at the last second, she faltered. She thought of Vera, who she knew would never approve even though she knew what he was like, what he did to her.

  
She sighed and continued on. The strenuous activity hurt so much, her right hand almost useless. There were times where her father climbed up and then dropped her a rope to climb up. Excruciating pain shot through her arm up to head, causing her to see stars until she was up.

The snow was nothing compared to the hidden ice patches that appeared out of nowhere. She had slid once almost off of the edge when she swung the ice axe out and caught herself. Her father walked on, looking back once to see if she had caught up. After that, she was much more careful.

They came up on the second mile, Joan’s body absolutely exhausted. The wind blew snow into her face mercilessly, and she could barely see the light her father wore in the distance. They kept on.

They reached the third mile some time in the evening of the next day. They finally stopped to rest, her father finding a small niche in the side of the mountain. Joan dropped to the ground inside, removing the heavy weight of her bag. Her breath puffed in clouds in front of her.

Her father dropped his bag and removed some broken down twigs, moss, and bark and began making a small fire. The flames licked at the wood as he placed a couple pieces of wood on it. Joan huddled next to the flames, her hands outstretched.

Her father opened some venison and offered Joan some. Her stomach growled, she felt weak. She took the meat and ate it quickly, washing it down with water to rid her mouth of the taste of her brief friend.

She took out her sleeping bag and laid inside and drifted off into a troubled sleep, where she was a witness to the murder of the deer, it’s beautiful eyes staring sorrowfully at her as it screamed. It sounded like Vera, and it’s voice kept asking why. Why did he kill me?

  
_“I don’t know deer, I don’t know.”_

_She cried as the deer cried, her father stood with his gun drawn, laughing, as he pointed it at her._

_“You want to be a deer, I’ll treat you like the deer. You’re either the predator or the prey in this world, Joan. Sooner you learn that, the sooner you’ll stop being the prey."_

_The gun exploded in his hands, the bullet racing towards Joan’s chest, the hummingbird beating it’s wings wildly as a burst of scarlet exploded from her back. She fell, numb, to the cold ground, inches from the deer._

Joan’s eyes slowly opened, her bag soaking wet from the tears she had shed, with more still streaming. She reached into her pocket and took out the small ring Vera had bought her and hugged it to her chest. She slipped it onto her finger, feeling a bit closer to Vera when she did so.

Her father began stirring around a few feet away from her. She quickly took off the ring and shoved it back in her pocket. It was still dark outside, but her stomach growled. She reached for her bag and found a granola bar inside, which she ate and laid back down. She fell back asleep, thankfully dreamless.

* * *

  
Vera left school as soon as the bell rang. True to the teacher’s word, she had been moved up a grade. Instead of the sixth grade, they placed her in the seventh, which was more of a challenge that she genuinely enjoyed. The kids were a lot nicer to her, some of which asked her to come over after school.

She declined, knowing she had her jobs to do after school. The cash she had hidden was growing exponentially, as word spread in town that Vera was a hard worker and did anything they needed. Her first stop as always was Mrs. Pritchard’s. She was nice to her when she answered the door. Vera went inside and put the leashes on the dogs. She led them outside and walked them to her next job, where she carried a basket of goodies from Mr. Mason to Ms. Fryer’s, an elderly woman who couldn’t get around anymore.

Ms. Fryer’s handed her a blue and green scarf she had knitted for her. Vera’s eyes lit up and she put it around her neck. She thanked Ms. Fryer and took the dogs back to Mrs. Pritchard’s, who paid her after she let the dogs go.

Vera didn’t stop at the bakery today, with Joan being gone, there was no need to. So she headed to Mr. Cormack's, who needed his yard raked.

She raked it into a huge pile that she had to resist jumping into, the bright reds and yellows enticing her. She knocked on his door when she was done, and he answered, paying her the $20 they had agreed upon.  
She walked home, later than she had meant to, which caused her to run into her mother in the living room. She looked at Vera sharply.

“Why are you late getting home?” she asked roughly.

“Umm… I… It was nice outside, so I was out playing with a couple of other kids from school,” she mumbled as she stared at the floor.

“Next time, straight from school or I’ll punish you, “she said dismissively.

“Yes, momma, I will, I’m sorry, “she said as she walked back to her room.

Vera quickly took up the board, placing the cash in the box below, then replaced the board into the floor. She stood up, jumping as she saw her mother standing in the doorway staring at her.

“What are you doing?” she asked Vera suspiciously.

“I was looking for my doll, the one grandma and grandpa bought me for my birthday, “she said quickly.

Her mother nodded slowly, accepting the excuse. “It’s on your bed in the back, “she said.

Vera looked over and saw it, quickly grabbing it as she acted excited that she had found it. Her mother rolled her eyes at the childish exuberance and left the room. Vera set the doll back down, sighing softly at how close that was. It was getting late, her mother in the kitchen cooking. She called Vera to come eat, so Vera went and set the table.

When they were done eating, her mother went to her room, calling it a night. Vera went to hers, and took the book she was reading out of her bag. _A Little Princess_. She curled up on her bed and read until she was too tired to read farther. She bookmarked the page and laid it aside, slid down in bed and fell asleep.

* * *

  
Joan woke up to bright sunlight, her right hand stiff and pain flaring through it. She sat up, seeing her father sitting by the embers from yesterday. He was chewing on some venison, staring at a map in his lap. She got another granola bar out of her bag and ate it, still hungry, she took out another. She drank some water, washing down the oats.

  
“I have the route mapped out here. We need to backtrack a bit then go another route to get down, “he told her in between bites.

The swelling in his cheek had went down immensely, Joan noticed. He stood up and stomped the embers out, then began packing up his sleeping bag and contents. Joan followed suit and packed up hers, looping the bag around her shoulders. She picked up her tools as he did, and they set off, backtracking until he found the route he had mapped out.

The sun climbed high in the sky, but it made no difference in the warmth. Snow crunched continuously under their thick boots. Joan was exhausted by the time they came to a cliff, a sheer drop of almost fifty feet below it. Her hummingbird heart dropped as she realized they would have to rappel down.

“Okay, Joan, I’ll hold the rope and you climb down. When you get to the bottom, I’ll climb down with the ice axe.”

Joan gulped, not daring to trust her father, but seeing no other way. She steeled herself and grabbed the offered rope. She slowly lowered herself over the edge, the rope going taunt as he took all of the weight. He slowly lowered her about half way down, when the rope stopped. She quickly looked up to see what was the matter, when she saw her father’s smirking face. 

“You think you got away with hitting me, did you?” he hollered down to her. “You can either drop the rest of the way, or climb yourself back up. You choose.”

Joan paled, her hands already numb and hurting around the coarse rope. She looked everywhere, knowing he didn’t give her enough rope to go farther down, yet too exhausted to carry her weight and the bag up the twenty-five feet. She dropped her head, holding on to the rope with every ounce of strength that remained.

Her thoughts turned to Vera, sweet, innocent Vera. What if she never saw her again? Would she ever know how much Joan had come to care about her? How much she depended on her for her happiness? Would she know how much Joan appreciated her?

With renewed strength, she began to climb the rope, pushing every bit of pain to the back of her mind, Vera’s name repeated as a mantra giving her the strength to keep going. She didn’t dare stop to take a break, every inch, no matter how slow, was progress.

Groans escaped her lips as she rose, her crushed hand so numb, she almost couldn’t feel the pain from it.  
She was almost five feet from the top, when she looked up. He stood up there, looking at her with rage and hate in his eyes. He took the rope and dropped her several feet. Joan screamed as she dropped down the rope, the momentum causing her to lose her grip, plummeting down, down, down…


	7. Not Broken

It was Saturday morning, Vera awoke, yawning and stretching before getting up to go to the bathroom. She took her morning shower, the warm water nice against her skin. It was over too quick as she stepped out and seized her towel. She rubbed her hair vigorously, then patted off the water droplets on the rest of her. She dressed in a pair of jeans and an emerald green long-sleeve shirt, and headed to the kitchen to cook breakfast.

She put the coffee on and started cooking a couple slices of ham. She was making butterbrots, so she toasted some bread, spread butter on it until it was melted in, then placed the ham on top. She opened a drawer and took the silverware out to set the table.

Her mother stumbled into the kitchen, falling into her chair. Vera brought her a fresh cup of coffee and put her plate down in front of her. Vera sat across from her, nibbling at her breakfast as she watched her.  
Nothing seemed out of place, she didn’t seem suspicious from yesterday. Vera asked about going outside to play for awhile while her mother enjoyed her day off. She nodded, and Vera quickly cleaned up the kitchen, rushing through it. She heard the TV click on in the other room.

Vera went to her room and retrieved her bag, looping it around her shoulders. She headed outside, the air brisk as if the frost giants in stories were waking up from their slumber. Vera took the well-worn path to town to do her daily jobs. Leaves fell from the branches high above her head, almost as if the trees themselves were heralding her arrival. As she was walking, she heard a small noise, what sounded like a mew. 

She stopped and listened, gazing around the area. She heard it again. She followed the sound to a small drainage pipe. Peering inside, she was met with a tiny black and white kitten, with just an orange splotch above it’s nose. Vera gasped. The poor thing wouldn’t survive in this weather long like this.

She reached in, scooping the little scrap of fur up, and bundled it in her inside coat pocket. It wiggled around as it warmed up, making Vera smile as she softly petted it. She continued walking to the town, stopping at Mr. Mason’s house first. She collected his basket, delivering it to Ms. Fryer’s, who was delighted to see the kitten. Ms. Fryer’s dug through some of her old articles she had knitted. She settled on a mitten to put the kitten in to keep it warm.

Vera thanked her and left, slipping the kitten inside the mitten and replacing it in her pocket. She went to Mrs. Pritchard’s, greeted the dogs as she put them on their leashes, and took them for a walk. She took them down to the playground where a bunch of the kids were at. The dogs were excited to have kids playing with them, and the kids were excited to play with the dogs. She stayed there for about half an hour before she said her goodbyes and returned the dogs. 

Mrs. Pritchard was happy, jabbering on about something that Mr. Pritchard had done that morning. She paid Vera, who went about her errands. She stopped at the store, in search of the kitten formula down the pet aisle. Vera grabbed a bottle or the formula and a bottle for the kitten to eat from. She took them to the register and had them rung up. She paid and took her bag, eager to get home and feed the kitten.

* * *

 

Her eyes felt so heavy, as if she could sleep forever. She moaned, the noise thick as it traveled through whatever was on her face. She tried to command her arm to reach up and remove whatever the stuff was, but it wouldn’t obey. She laid there, floating softly on a cloud, zero gravity.

Pain wracked through her body, a burst of light erupting inside her head. Joan’s eyes shot open, the eternal, dazzling white blinding her. Her head felt as if it weighed half her body weight, as if it was stuffed with feathers. She finally managed to scrape the snow off of her face, cold and glistening crystals that had somehow saved her life.

She slowly sat up, working each individual bone so she would know if anything was broken. When she moved her left knee, she sucked in an icy breath as pain seared through her leg. She yanked her jean leg up, and upon further inspection, verified that her knee was swollen, but not broken. She must’ve rolled on it when she landed.

Joan glanced upwards, noticing the rope was gone and that she had rolled quite a distance. Calculating where she fell, she must’ve dropped about twenty feet, which thankfully landed her in a snowdrift deep enough to break her fall. She looked around and found her bag a few feet away where it was torn off of her back.

Putting all of her weight on her right leg, she managed to hobble to her bag, which she returned to her back. She could see the car in the distance, meaning her father hadn’t made it back yet. Would he have left her if he had though? Joan stumbled forward and slowly made her way down Mount Elbrus.

It was evening when she made it to the bottom, exhausted, out of breath, the pain blinding. She all but crawled to the car, jerking the door open and sitting inside. She took off her bag and set it in the back seat, grabbing the bottle of water and downing it. She laid back, closing her eyes and entering a Zen like trance.

* * *

 

Joan didn’t know when she fell asleep, but a loud thud against the car caused her to bolt awake, fear activating her adrenaline. She looked around, panicking, then she saw the figure outside. She unlocked the door, her father opened it, stooping down as he slid into the driver’s seat.

Joan wouldn’t, couldn’t, face him, knowing he tried to kill her, or at least attempted to hurt her. She stared out of the window as he started the car and they started the long drive home.

* * *

 

Vera brought the kitten into the house, sneaking it into her bedroom. She followed the instructions, mixing the formula in the bottle with warm water from the bathroom sink. She shook it up, and placed the tiny nipple to the kittens mouth. It mewed as it latched on, eating as if it hadn’t in awhile.

Vera noticed it was a boy, she wanted to name him something special. She went through a list of names before she settled on one that suited him perfectly: Pasha. Vera cooed over him as he drank the entire bottle, his little stomach fat from the contents.

She couldn’t wait to introduce him to Joan. Pasha curled up and fell asleep, his belly full. Vera laid him in her bed as she looked for a box that she could make him a bed out of. She went to the wood stove room and discovered a decent sized box hidden in the corner of the room. She took it back to her room, lining the box with old cloths she had found. She placed him inside and covered him up, setting the box beside her bed.

Supper came and went, the sky grew dark and the stars appeared brighter than ever in the cold, empty air. Vera gazed out of the window as she fed Pasha again, afterwards cleaning up the mess he had made.

Vera’s thoughts drifted to Joan again, wondering if she was alright and what her father was doing to her, what pain was he inflicting now. Sadness filled her heart. All she could do was wait for her return. She returned Pasha to his bed and climbed in hers. After reading her book for a short while, she bookmarked it and went to sleep.

* * *

 

Joan awoke to bright sunlight shining through her window. For a minute, she was confused, almost convinced the trip had been a dream. Her head felt fuzzy, heavy as she tried to sit up. Pain bolted up her arm quick as a lighting bolt.

She instantly looked down to see the hand she had bandaged up. So it wasn’t a dream. She dropped her head as a wave of sadness washed over her. She inspected her knee, which thankfully was less swollen than originally. 

Joan stood up, tentatively putting pressure on her knee. It hurt, but it was bearable. She made her way to the bathroom. The house was quiet, her father probably at the fencing building. She took the time to take a shower, then rewrapped her hand after she dried off and dressed.

Her stomach growled loudly in the confining room. Joan went to the kitchen and spying a basket of fruit, she picked up an apple. The first bite was heaven, and Joan was convinced this was exactly how Eve felt when she ate the fruit from the forbidden tree. She finished the apple, next grabbing an orange. She peeled and ate it, too, feeling as if she hadn’t eaten in days.

She returned to her room, when she suddenly remembered Vera’s ring she had in her jeans pocket. Panicking, she ran to the clothes basket she had thrown her clothes. Finding the jeans she had worn, she went through the pockets until her fingers bumped against a small metal object. She pulled out the ring, relief washing over her.

She took it back to her room and went into the closet, removing the small cover over the hole. She took the box out and placed the ring inside, spying some new objects inside. Curious, she pulled them out. There were a few snack cakes, and even more odd, there was a small cat collar with a tiny bell on it. When she looked back in the box, a note was tucked away in the corner of it. She pulled it out and read it:

_Dear Joan,_  
_I thought it would be nice to leave you something to eat, so I snuck into your room and put some cakes where your dad wouldn’t find them. You’re probably wondering about the collar though. Well, long story short, we’re parents now. I found this kitten on the way to town and decided to keep it. I haven’t told momma yet, but hopefully when the time comes, she’ll let me keep him. I have missed you a lot and can’t wait to see you when you get home. Sneak over when you do._  
_Your friend forever, Vera_  
_P.s. His name is Pasha._

The note was very typical Vera, and Joan laughed. Parents now. She was excited to see the kitten. Joan returned everything to the box except the snack cakes, and shoved the box back in the hole. She replaced the cover, opened the plastic, and ate the cakes. Her stomach now pleasantly full, she took the plastic and threw it in the trash, covering it with other trash. She decided to practice fencing until she could go to Vera’s.

* * *

 

Vera had been caring for Pasha for about three days, when her mother heard the meowing coming from Vera’s room. After a heated argument, she was finally allowed to keep Pasha, on the condition she had to buy all of his stuff, which Vera readily agreed to. 

She watched as the sun set below the hills, the sky darkened with the cluster of stars circling the moon. Pasha was asleep in her arms, burrowed into the warmth. She had just fed him, the formula still sticky on his mouth. 

A black silhouette appeared at her window and tapped on the glass. Vera’s heart did somersaults as she opened the window. Joan climbed in, favoring her right hand. Vera squealed and she jumped on Joan, squeezing her tightly. Joan yelped and pulled back.

“Take it easy, Vera. Not that I don’t enjoy your hugs, it’s just been…”the words stopped flowing, but Vera understood. 

“I’m sorry, Joan, I’m just so happy to see you again.”  
She untucked Pasha from his knitted cover and held him out to Joan. She marveled at how small he was, understanding his namesake now. She tentatively picked him up and held him to her chest. His fur was downy, soft as velvet.

Love spread throughout her body, centered in her chest. She felt as if she would do anything for this tiny spark of life. She realized she felt the exact same way about Vera, that somehow she would protect her from anything bad in this world. It was also a sudden realization that her father had utterly failed in turning her into an emotionless shell for him to manipulate and control.

They spent the rest of the night catching up, and Vera finally asked the dreaded question of what happened to her. Joan brushed most of it off, not wanting her to know exactly what her father was capable of doing to her. Vera wouldn’t accept the half-assed answer Joan provided her, but dropped it. 

Well before dawn came, Joan headed back to her house, terrified her father would come in her room early, and not finding her there, discover her secret. She crawled in the window, shut it, thankful he hadn’t been in there. She crawled into bed and fell asleep.

* * *

 


	8. Release

_Five years later_

Time slowed within a single grain of sand slipping through the hourglass. Adrenaline coursed through her body, her heart pumping slow, strong beats. A bead of sweat trickled down the slope of her cheekbone, a lock of her hair sliding across her jaw where it came loose from her bun.

She inhaled and made her lunge, feinting to the side. Her father parried, executing a riposte. Joan saw an opening, her lithe body feinting once more to the left, and with a slight flick, she hit the back of his right shoulder as he tried to party the feint attack.  
Joan removed her mask, careful to hide her grin. Her father removed his mask, his face a blank slate of an emotionless void. He eyed her as he began to remove the protective clothing he wore.

“That’s enough for today, “he said in his thick Russian accent. 

He sat on the bench and removed the boots. Joan was disappointed, she knew she wouldn’t receive any praise, but not even an acknowledgement that she succeeded for once, that she was becoming experienced in fencing. She sighed softly and removed her protective gear also.

It was hot, the sun overhead when they walked out of the building and got in the car. Joan stared out the window the whole way home, not bothering to acknowledge her father when they arrived home and she got out of the car and went to her room. She fell on her bed, a sudden wave of exhaustion washing through her from the adrenaline crash.

Tonight was the fair, Vera already made plans for them to go. A short nap wouldn’t hurt anyone, she thought to herself as her eyes drifted closed.

* * *

 

_Mew. Mew._

Vera looked up from her books to see Pasha the Magnificent Trapeze Artist attempting to walk across the thin back of her headboard, then gracefully leaping on to the desk that Vera currently sat at. He wound around her, purring when Vera began stroking his fur.

She smiled at the long time ritual the two had come to enjoy every night before bed. Vera had been finishing up the last of her homework, a paper on _The Great Patriotic War_ , detailing the invasion of the French under Napoleon. She had checked out every book she could find on it in the library, ensuring the paper would not only be correct, but would hold the attention of the class during her presentation.

She looked out the window and realized time had slipped through her fingers, the sun had already set. She packed up her books back into her bag and petted Pasha once again before she grabbed her purse and snuck out of the window.

Joan appeared to be fast asleep in her bed, her relaxed expression so peaceful it made Vera’s heart swell. She quietly slid the window open and placed her purse inside on the floor, climbing into the window in one fluid motion. She walked over to the bed, just as lonely looking as her old one as a child.

She recalled the day Joan got it, ecstatic that her legs, that had grown so long, didn’t hang off the end anymore. Her father had taken the old bed and made it into firewood. It wasn’t anything special, but the fact that he even bought her a new one after what he had done surprised her.

Joan had eventually confided in Vera a couple years ago about what had occurred on Mount Elbrus, how her father had killed the deer purposely to hurt Joan, and later dropped her from the rope. Vera’s heart broke quietly, the cracks shattering every last constraint of hers. She had grabbed Joan, pulling her into the longest, tightest embrace she had ever given her, thankful she had come back to her, realizing how close she had came to never seeing her again.

That was the day they officially became a couple, the trepidation they had been continuously skating around gone in the moment Vera had learned she came so close to losing the one person she loved in the world.  
Joan began to stir in bed, sensing someone beside her. Her eyes blinked open, seeing Vera above her. She smiled and reached up to her, pulling her into the bed with her. Vera snuggled her as they laid there for a few minutes.

“How did fencing go today?” Vera asked softly as she brushed a lock of Joan’s hair behind her ear.

“I won and I lost. Is my consolation prize you?” she replied. Vera giggled and kissed her as she blushed.

Joan knew they had to get going if they were going to make it back in time, so as reluctantly as physically possible, she extracted herself from Vera. She went to her closet and pulled out an outfit she had gotten a week ago. She stripped out of her clothes as Vera quietly watched.

Joan’s sleek muscles rippled down her back and down her long legs. Her hips flared out, almost enticingly as she leaned down to take her jeans off. Vera’s eyes traced the many faded scars across her back, and the more fresher ones that she procured just a few months ago. 

Joan finished dressing, allowing Vera to look elsewhere than the body that had become so commanding. She turned around, hesitant, waiting for Vera’s opinion. She had on a black pair of jeans that hugged her form perfectly, the white blouse sprinkled with tiny prints of flowers the same shade of blue as Vera’s eyes.

“You look…beautiful. Aphrodite herself could appear in this room and still wouldn’t compare to you, “Vera said breathlessly.

Joan blushed a beautiful shade of sunset red and she fumbled with the hem of her blouse, at a loss for words except a mumbled thank you. Vera stood up from the bed where she had been laying and went over to Joan, clutching her hands as she stared seriously into her dark eyes, so full of need for Vera’s approval, her love, her.

“You are the most amazing woman, Joan, and anything that you wear will just be enhanced by you.”

Joan smiled and hugged her tightly, just a microgram of self confidence beginning to emerge from her fragile self.

“Now let’s get going and have some fun,” Vera said as she giggled. She retrieved her purse from the floor then slid out of the window, turning around to help Joan through.

The fair lights twinkled like a cluster of stars on the horizon, and the faint sound of music drifted on the wind to them as they walked in it’s direction. Vera couldn’t wait to eat some cotton candy and to maybe win Joan a prize. Her main goal was to make sure Joan had a good time, though, everything else was just a bonus.

Joan did a sideways glance at the girl, no, the woman she corrected herself, strolling beside her. She had realized that she had grown up a lot, no longer the tiny scrap of life that Joan had first met those many years ago. She’d blossomed into this confident, self assured, independent woman that Joan secretly admired and looked up to.

Somehow, Vera had taken care of the both of them for the past few years, constantly making sure Joan had everything she needed, clothes, food if her father refused her any that day, and books. Vera was always picking up a new book she had found at the store. She had read most of the classics, _Wuthering Heights, Little Women, Gone With the Wind, A Tale of Two Cities_ , and at Vera’s insistence, _To Kill a Mockingbird_. 

Vera had quickly and silently crept into her heart and taken up residence there long before she had realized it. She glanced at her again. Vera seemed to have went from the young girl in pigtails, to the young woman with delicate waves in her hair overnight. She grew, though nowhere near Joan’s height, a good seven inches shorter than her. Her body became sculpted, shaped into something to be desired.

She quickly looked away as the archway entrance to the fair glided over them as they stepped through on to the beaten dirt. The music became loud, growing out the noise of the many conversations that drifted around them. Vera became excited, her eyes lit up as she spied the cart selling cotton candy.

Joan never saw the point in the frail substance that melted into nothing on your tongue, but she entertained Vera’s enthusiasm as she bought two cones, handing her one before delving into hers.  
Joan picked apart hers, taking out a piece and offering it to Vera, who rolled her eyes happily and opened her mouth. Joan slid the piece in and smiled at Vera’s expression, as a small blush crept up her neck. Joan stuffed a piece into her mouth, feeling it melt into a soggy, sugary goop.

  
They held hands as they walked down the path separating the many game and food booths. Vera found a game that looked fun, the ring toss. They gave her three rings and after the first two bounced off of the clear bottles, the third one stuck. The booth runner let her pick out a prize. When she spied the small stash of pocket knives, she knew they were perfect. She asked for the one with the wooden handle, a gold emblem engraved in the middle of it. The guy gave it to her and she handed it to Joan, who took it.

She admired it lovingly, the wood almost warm, a direct contradiction to the coldness of the steel blade. She tucked it away in her pocket, thanking Vera for the beautiful gift. Vera smiled and they headed towards the rides section of the fair.

They ended up riding the roller coaster, followed by the tea cups, then journeyed through the mirror maze. The lights and the sounds kept everyone in high spirits, laughter and cheers surrounded the tents like ash falling through the sky, choking out all other noise.  
The night came to an end, and the Ferris Wheel was decided as the final piece of enjoyment. Joan and Vera settled into their seat, locking the bar across them as it took off into the midnight atmosphere. The lights below resembled that of fireflies on the ground, the sounds muted the farther up they climbed.

The air became silent, the only sounds their breathing. Joan felt Vera moving around in the seat, she turned to see what she was doing, her eyes widening when Vera removed a small box from her pocket.

Vera looked up at her, a soft smile forming, her hair gently framing the most sweetest face Joan had ever seen.

“Joan, do you remember the first time we rode this? You asked me if I liked you and I told you I did. Joan, ask me again.” Vera stared at her earnestly, her very breath trapped in the hollow of her chest as she waited precariously on the edge of her hope.

Joan’s mouth worked itself a couple times before the words haltingly came out, not quite the ones she had meant to say, but the ones her hummingbird heart wanted to know the answer to.

“Vera, do you…do you love me?” She shut her eyes, her breath held unknowingly as she danced on the razor blade edge of ice that surrounded the depths of her being.

She felt smaller hands surround her calloused ones, the box being pressed firmly into her palm. Her eyes came undone and she looked down at a black velvet coated box. The Ferris wheel grinded to a halt at the peak, Joan felt as if the entire world was holding it’s breath unanimously. She lifted the top of the box up, and as it swung on it’s delicate, tiny hinges, revealed the most beautiful intricate white gold ring, spun through fragments of diamonds that appeared as if Vera had captured the very stars to place inside the constellation of this ring.

Joan gasped softly as she looked back at Vera, the light of the fair sparkling in her bright blue eyes as she smiled at Joan.

“Yes, Joan, I do love you. And I know we are still young, and we have our entire life ahead of us, but I also know the future is a constant unknown presence hanging over our shoulders. So this is as good a time as any to ask you, if sometime in the future when everything is straightened out, when we can make a future for ourselves, will you marry me? I promise to always love you, to always be there for you, to tell you how beautiful and wonderful you are every day, and this ring is a physical part of my promise to you.”

Joan was speechless, the tears falling unbidden at the eloquently spoken words so full of love, so full of just Vera. Her hands shaking, she removed the ring from the box and slipped it on her left ring finger, then wrapped her arms around Vera, burying her face into her shoulder and neck.

“Yes, I will, Vera. I love you, too, “she replied, her voice muffled.

Vera’s heart leaped from the edge of hope and plummeted into the softest clouds below, so full of joy she realized she could never imagine a life without Joan again.

Joan pulled back and without a second thought, connected her lips with Vera, her hand coming up to cup Vera’s cheek and entwining in her hair. Vera gasped in surprise, quickly turning into a deep moan as Joan’s tongue brushed against hers.

The Ferris wheel was almost to the bottom when they broke apart, both faces flushed, eyes glazed as they softly panted. It grinded to a halt, they lifted up the bar and got off the ride. Joan took Vera’s hand and led her to the passage that left the fair.

They quickly walked back to Joan’s house, and after helping Vera in the window, she climbed in behind her and slid it closed. She turned around, now that they were alone, she felt awkward. Vera noticed the slight change, and slid her arms around Joan, her lips closing over hers.

Joan whimpered softly as an unknowing need clawed at her stomach, demanding release. She broke the kiss and quickly pulled Vera’s shirt up, her eyes wide as her arms went up. Joan unclipped her bra, removing the article of clothing, leaving Vera standing there in just her lower clothes.

Her eyes traveled over the unblemished skin, taking in every detail she had seen over the years but never really noticed until now. Vera stood there self consciously, feeling her gaze, and she fought the urge to cover herself. Instead, she decided to take off her shoes and socks, kicking them aside before unbuttoning her jeans and letting them fall to the floor.  
Joan’s eyes widened and her nose flared slightly at the sight of Vera, the last straw being when she removed her panties and stood there naked and open to her.

Joan backed her up to the bed, her lips on hers as her hands traveled Vera’s body. Something seemed to have just snapped inside of her, she wanted all of Vera, every last inch of skin as well as all of the sounds coming from her, and every drop of her love and feelings kept in the reserve just for Joan.

Joan cupped her breasts, moving her head down to take each nipple into her warm mouth. Vera arched into her, feeling her legs part. Warmth pooled between her legs, spreading through her stomach and into every area Joan touched. She pulled the shirt off of Joan, quickly releasing her bra, too, throwing both to the floor. Joan kicked off her shoes and socks, unbuttoning her jeans and sliding everything down simultaneously.

She climbed into bed with Vera, pressing small kisses on her neck and across her collarbone, where she slowly sucked a red spot on to Vera’s delight. Vera cupped Joan’s breasts, placing soft open mouthed kisses across her flushed neck and down her chest as Joan panted above her. Vera’s hand slid downwards over the plain of rippling muscles of Joan’s stomach, her heart fluttering as she found the wet confines of Joan’s center.

Joan buried her face into the pillow Vera’s head resided, moaning deeply as her fingers worked inside her, slipping through her folds, causing her to arch into Vera. Vera slid her fingers inside, so tight and warm, the heel of her hand grinding into her clit, sending pleasant shocks coursing through her strung tight body.

She could feel herself climbing towards a point of something, a release of sorts, as Vera’s fingers worked inside of her. She rocked against them, feeling Vera’s lips wrap around a nipple as she sucked and teased them, her fingers working faster as the bundle of nerves that had tangled themselves inside of her released.

Electrical shocks coursed through her as she stiffened, burying her face into the pillow as she cried out with pleasure. Waves rocked through her as if she contained an ocean inside, a pleasant fog clouding her mind. She couldn’t help but to smile as years it seemed of pent up raw energy had been released. She raised her head, gazing down at Vera who was grinning as she stared Joan.

“Was that good?” she asked softly.

Joan nodded, her brain it seemed unable to form words. Vera giggled, removing her fingers from Joan. Joan watched awestruck as Vera slipped her coated fingers into her mouth, her lips closing around them as she tasted Joan. Her blue eyes, so bright, stared at Joan’s dark ones, knowing the effect she was having on her.

Joan’s lips crashed down on hers as she took Vera by surprise, her tongue slipping inside and tangling with hers. She worked her way down Vera’s chest, her stomach. She swirled her tongue around Vera’s navel as she arched. She sucked small spots over the tender skin of her pelvic area. The quick pants encouraged her to continue as she placed Vera’s legs on either side of her.

Vera gazed down at her, her whole body flushed with the heat of her arousal. Joan’s tongue slid through her folds in one deliberately slow motion, Vera’s body arching as her head fell backwards onto the pillow. Her eyes closed, a moan escaping her lips as electrical shocks wracked her body. Joan did it again, finding the small bundle of nerves near the top. She closed her lips around it, delicately running the top of her tongue across it as Vera suddenly jerked, her hips flying upwards.

Joan wrapped her arms around them, resuming her actions. She explored every bit of Vera, filing away the information when she found a new source of excitement. She slid her fingers inside her, curling them upwards as she moved them in and out, eliciting a gasp from her. Joan continued to lick and tease Vera’s clit as her long fingers stroked the inside of her center.

Vera’s hips jerked as her orgasm escaped in waves through her. Joan immediately crawled up beside her, her lips on hers, capturing the sounds before they could be heard elsewhere. When Vera had settled down, her body feeling like the cotton candy that dissolved into a sugary goop in Joan’s mouth, Joan released her, settling down beside her and wrapping her arms around her.

Vera snuggled up to her, a sense of peace drifting between them. After a bit, Joan drifted off into a peaceful sleep, turning over at some point so her back was to Vera. Vera turned to her side, her fingers coming up to trace the scars that lined her back. Sadness washed over her, the pain and suffering that Vera was privy to, but had no control over. She placed small, feather light kisses on each mark as Joan slept quietly. She wrapped her arms around Joan, not realizing that before long she had fallen asleep.


	9. Freedom

A roar of pure fury startled Joan and Vera awake and out of bed. The very presence of Joan’s father filled the small room as he stood there, fists balled up and a snarl on his face. Vera stood petrified, feeling vulnerable without her clothes on. She quickly reached down and tugged on her pants, then threw on her shirt, ignoring everything else. Joan looked over at her, catching her eye.

_Go_ , she mouthed to her.

Vera hesitated, not wanting to leave Joan here unprotected. She grabbed her purse, then with a split thought, grabbed Joan’s discarded jeans from the night before. She took out the knife and, with a confused look on Joan’s face, tossed her the knife before darting for the window and sliding it open.

Joan’s father rushed her, his hand closing around her shirt right as she scurried out of the window. She squealed in terror as she attempted to break his grip. She heard a loud _oof_ behind her and then she was falling the short distance to the ground.

Unsteady, she managed to get up, turning to look back inside. The sight made her heart drop as she saw Joan fighting her father, him with the upper hand. Vera turned and ran back to her house, her carefully long planned escape finally in action.

* * *

 

She rushed into the house, quietly closing the window as Pasha ran up to her, his mews sounding as desperate as she felt. She picked him up and cuddled him, petting him, reassuring him everything would be alright.

She sat him down, and went to her closet door, retrieving the suitcase she had bought a year ago. Vera laid it on the bed and started packing her clothes into it. She crouched down and removed the loose plank, took out the tin box she kept all of her valuables in. Inside, a wad of cash filled the container from all of the jobs she had worked since she was eleven.

Vera took it all, determination filling her and giving her strength, and put it in her purse. She put the small trinkety she had acquired over the years into her purse, too. When she had everything packed, including Pasha’s food, she went back to the closet and reached towards the back of the shelf, pulling down a small carrier for Pasha.

He was not happy being put in it, but he quickly settled down. Vera put each thing outside before climbing out. She carried it all to the large tree halfway to Joan’s, setting it all down, and sprinting to Joan’s, hoping beyond anything that she was alive.

* * *

 

Joan and her father circled each other for what seemed like ages, the knife held firmly in Joan’s right hand. She had never seen the amount of hate radiating from him as she did now. She knew it would come to this one day, one of them would have to die.

Joan’s muscles flexed and rippled as the adrenaline coursed through her, giving her the lightning quick reflexes she needed as he lunged for her. Fencing had trained her for this as she darted to the left, her knife coming up and streaking across his cheek. Blood splattered down his shirt as he let out an angry cry.   
He wiped his cheek as he stared at her, cold, dead eyes like marbles. She panted as she readied herself for another attack.

“You don’t really think you are going to win, do you Joan?” he asked quietly, menacingly.

She knew he was manipulating her to weaken her confidence. Confidence was key to strength, key to winning. She didn’t let it phase her.

“You are worthless, Joan. Pointless even. You are nothing, and you have always been nothing, and that’s all you will ever be, is nothing,” he said quietly, almost mockingly.

Joan could feel it hit, and as hard as she tried to push against what she knew were lies, she could feel it tearing into her confidence.

“Do you really think that girl cares anything about you? She’s using you, manipulating you. She is nothing but a whore that abandoned you, that left you without even a look back as she ran as fast as she could to get away from you, “he continued in that quiet voice, slowly inching his way to Joan as he saw her processing the manipulation tactic.

As soon as Joan heard the slander against Vera, rage filled her. She knew it wasn’t true, she knew everything Vera had done for her, knew everything she had gone through with her. Her thumb pressed hard into the metal around her finger, the solid promise that Vera would always be there for her.

She lunged, seeing the surprised look on his face. She feinted to the left, cutting so close as she darted to the right when he went for her. She plunged the knife into the carotid artery in his neck, yanking the knife out with a fountain of blood.

Her father’s hands clawed desperately at his neck as he fell to the floor, blood pooling around him. He mouthed words soundlessly until his body stopped, the light dimming in his eyes like the sun setting for the final time. A noise behind her startled her and she turned, seeing a pale faced Vera with a look of horror as she stared at the body. 

Joan quickly went to block the view, dropping the blood coated knife to the ground as she went to Vera. Tears began to stream down Vera’s face as she grabbed Joan into the tightest embrace she had ever had. Joan squeezed her equally as tight, her check resting on the top of Vera’s head.

“You’re alive. You’re alive, Joan, oh God, I thought he was going to kill you,” she cried into Joan’s chest.

Joan stroked her hair, nervous as she said, “He would have, Vera. I had to do it. I had to. Please don’t hate me.”

Vera pulled back suddenly, staring wide eyed at her, absolutely stunned that Joan would ever think that Vera could ever hate her, much less for self defense.

“Joan, it was self defense, you had to or he would have killed you. I don’t hate you, and I never could. But look, we need to get you cleaned up and packed. You go take a shower and I’ll get everything together.”

Joan nodded, relief settling in her as the adrenaline left her body. She felt so tired, but she grabbed some clothes and went to the bathroom. She turned on the water and stood under the spray, the water running pink as the blood ran off of her.

* * *

 

Vera went looking through the house until she found a rather run-down suitcase. She returned to the room and began packing all the clothes she had bought Joan into it, then going into the closet and feeling for the lip of the panel. She put it to the side and took out the box that Joan kept all of her stuff in, then left the closet and dumped the box into the suitcase.

By the time Joan re-entered the room, the small amount that she owned was packed and ready to go. Joan walked around the body that was already cooling, then bent down and retrieved the knife Vera had gave her. Vera watched her quietly as Joan cleaned the knife and put it in her pocket.

“We need to leave now, Joan. Come on.”

She grabbed Joan’s suitcase, but Joan took it out of her hands. Both were solemn as they walked out of the front door, Vera barely noticing that was the only time she had ever used the door in the ten years she had known Joan. Vera led them to the tree, where a meowing Pasha saw Joan, excitement lighting up his green eyes.

Joan smiled at Pasha as she reached down to pet him through the carrier. Vera explained how they needed to get to the train station as they picked up Vera’s bags and Pasha. The walk to town was longer than usual with the extra weight, but soon the red roof of the station came into view as they heard a train whistle in the distance.

* * *

 

They stepped up onto the platform after Vera bought their tickets, and boarded the train going south. After finding a closed compartment, they settled down and let Pasha loose, to his enjoyment. He jumped up on the shelves where their luggage was stored, exploring the compact cabin. He soon grew bored and leaped down into Joan’s lap, purring contently as she pet him.

Thoughts ran endlessly through Vera’s mind now that they stopped and she had nothing to do. She was horrified for Joan, guilty that she had left her and Joan felt like there was no other option. In a way though, she didn’t. It was too late for them to just leave after that, he would’ve killed Joan before the day was gone. She also knew that if she had stayed, she would’ve shared the same fate as the red deer, and then where would Joan be?

She was startled from her thoughts as the train let loose another whistle, the wheels rolling sluggishly as it pulled out of the station, quickly gaining momentum in the open. She glanced over at Joan, her entire focus on Pasha as she fought to keep her emotions under control, an almost blank expression a mask on her face.

Vera reached out a hand and clasped Joan’s, gently squeezing it as she held her hand. When Joan looked up at her, Vera smiled, radiating the warmth and the love she felt for this incredibly brave woman. Joan’s mask cracked as she smiled back, a sense of freedom for the first time in her life uplifting her.

They talked for the longest time, the sun sailing across the vast sky, with Vera explaining to Joan where they were going and how she had planned this for years, her main reason for saving up her money. Joan looked on incredulously, the small scrap of life much more stronger and resourceful than Joan would’ve ever thought anyone could be.

Joan leaned over, her hand coming up to cup Vera’s face as she kissed her, her eyes softly closing. Vera reciprocated, placing her hand on Joan’s neck as she pulled her closer, their lips melding into each other’s. They pulled back, breathless, Vera’s thumb brushed across Joan’s flushed bottom lip. Pasha, disturbed from his nap, meowed grumpily before leaping back to the shelf.

Joan, paying him no mind, glanced out of the small compartment window that led to the hallway, seeing no one in it. Her hand laced through Vera’s long, brown hair as she grasped the back of her head, pulling her towards her, her lips crashing down on Vera’s.  
Vera gasped, her mouth invaded by Joan’s, her kiss leaving her breathless and flustered. She felt a hand on her stomach as it slipped below the waist band on her jeans, fingers gliding across her swollen clit. Vera moaned into Joan’s mouth as Joan stroked her, quickly bringing her to the edge.

Vera broke the kiss, grabbing the hem of Joan’s shirt and tugging it over her breasts, her nipples already hard as Vera’s tongue darted out to swipe across one. She heard a sharp hiss, Joan’s fingers increasing their speed as Vera felt more warmth between her legs. Vera closed her mouth around the nipple she had licked, twirling her tongue around the sensitive nub as she tweaked the other one.

She could feel the waves begin to crash through her as she came, deep moans muffled when she had moved to Joan’s neck, sucking the tender skin at the base. Joan’s body was so tensed, like a tightly strung bow, flushed, aching. She throbbed between her legs, thanking the stars when Vera tugged her jeans and panties off as she slid into the floor.

Vera opened Joan’s legs, exposing her swollen lips, her clit just barely peaking through. A wave of possessiveness suddenly hit her, as the realization that Joan was finally, truly hers now, with no one to come between them. She inched closer, her tongue darting in-between her folds, gliding effortlessly over her clit.She tasted like honey, her tongue darting out for more.

Joan’s eyes closed, almost rolling into the back of her head as Vera’s fingers slid into her, her lips wrapping around her clit as her tongue stroked it. Miniature shocks coursed through her as she tried to be quiet, failing as Vera’s fingers worked inside her, increasing their speed as she arched them upwards. 

“God, Vera, I love you, “she moaned out as her orgasm crashed though her, hot liquid pooling from her.

Vera slowed, letting Joan ride out the waves, before removing her fingers and sliding her tongue through her folds. Joan sat there blissfully as Vera laid down in the seat, her head on Joan’s lap.

“I love you, too, “she replied, smiling, feeling that they were finally free at last.

* * *

 

The train took them to Yemen, arriving almost a week later. Pasha had done well, with Joan and Vera both taking turns to entertain him. Vera had watched the miraculous change that had come over Joan, gone was the anxiousness, the trepidation that had constantly plagued her existence. In it’s place, was the reassurance that she was loved and cared for, confidence in herself and her abilities, and knowledge that she could overcome anything.

They both agreed to put the past behind them, both wanting to forget the abuse and self defense. They wondered if he had been found yet, and if so, would they know what happened to him? What the truth was? Other than the bed left in the room, there really was no proof that anyone else lived there. Maybe they would count it off as a robbery, or an enemy he may have had.

Vera would occasionally catch herself thinking about her mother, wondering if she missed her or even cared that she was gone. She’d turn her thoughts elsewhere, figuring she was glad she was gone.

The train pulled into the station as they gathered up their luggage and placed Pasha back in his carrier. Vera managed to get transportation after they exited the station, having the driver take them to the seaport.  
Once there, she paid for tickets to get them across the ocean to Australia, their final destination. The ship didn’t leave until noon the next day, which gave them time to eat and get some sleep. Vera got them a room at a small inn, which also included the cost of a meal.

The aroma drifted from the open kitchen, with the other people residing there stumbling downstairs and sitting on thin mattresses against the walls of the room adjacent to the kitchen. Vera and Joan followed suit nervously, unsure of the customs in this country. They sat on an empty mattress off to the side as a woman entered from the kitchen, a tray with many bowls in her hands.

She walked the tray around the room, quietly offering a bowl to each person. She arrived at Joan and Vera, each taking the last bowls of unknown liquid, a lemon wedge on the side.

“Excuse me, do you speak Russian?” Vera asked the woman.

The woman nodded, showing she understood what she said. “Not fluently, but for the most part, yes, “she added.

“What is in this bowl?”

“Maraq. It is, how do you say? Lamb broth? Very good, put lemon juice in it, “she said as she gestured at the lemon wedge.

Vera nodded and thanked the woman as she left. Vera turned to Joan, who shrugged and squeezed the lemon over the broth. Vera followed suit, sipping the hot liquid. It warmed her, the richness of the fat cut by the acidity of the lemon. Too soon it was gone, but just in time for the woman to appear again, a tray piled with plates in her hands.

She passed them around, and Vera saw they held salads as she took the last two for her and Joan. The lettuce was crispy, as was the sliced carrots, and the tomato wedges were almost sweet when Vera bit into it. She glanced at Joan, who seemed to be enjoying herself. Joan glanced up as the woman re-entered, carrying a tray of cups. Vera gladly took one, washing the food down with crisp, clean well water.

The last dish came around, a plate of what she assumed was the lamb the broth was made from, on a bed of rice. Everyone took their plate, along with cutlery. The woman pointed at the plate as Vera placed it in her lap.

“Mandi. Is good, traditional dish. You’ll like.”

She walked away back to the kitchen. The noise in the room increased as the meal was coming to an end. Conversations filled every corner of the room as Vera and Joan quietly ate. The lamb was indeed good, the rice exquisitely seasoned with a few raisins strewn through it.

When everyone was done, the woman came through a final time, collecting the dishes. Vera drank the last of her water, stacking hers and Joan’s dishes together before the woman stopped in front of them. She stacked it on the tray and returned to the kitchen.  
Joan and Vera decided to go back to their room so they could check on Pasha and feed him. The other residents were still in conversation when the two left, the noise more like that of bees buzzing the farther up the stairs they climbed. Their room was at the far end of the hallway, separated only by a hanging curtain that they passed through.

Pasha mewed happily when Joan took him out of his carrier, cuddling him as Vera got him his bowl of food out and a bottle of water she kept for him. She poured some in another bowl, setting them in front Joan and Pasha. He jumped out of her hands, lapping the water up before eating.

* * *

 

It was twilight outside, the sky an array of dark purples and blues, the whole town seemed muted now since the sun set. Vera couldn’t stop laughing as she tried to walk Pasha outside…on a leash…like a dog…and he was not having any of it. He looked up at Joan almost pleadingly, mewing in earnest.

“Pasha you have to go. I can’t leave you out of your carrier all night, there isn’t a door, and I don’t want anything happening to you, “said Vera, finally turning to Joan, who was barely holding in her own fit of laughter.

“Joan,” she said exasperatedly, “please do something, anything, just get him to go.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” she said, laughing as she took the leash, giving Vera a kiss as she walked Pasha around the building. Vera shook her head, grinning.

She waited for a few until the two returned, Joan confirming the stubborn cat had finally used the bathroom. They returned to the room, where Vera removed the leash and put Pasha back in the carrier. They settled into bed with Joan behind Vera, spooning her while she fell asleep. Not long after, she felt the drowsiness, her eyelids closing and she fell asleep.


End file.
